After you walk into a village and you see 50 children, all sitting neatly in a row, against a church wall, each with their throats cut and their hands chopped off, you realize that the creature that could do this doesn't have a soul.









There lived a crooked man, who made a crooked deal
He kept a crooked cane, and his catch in a crooked creel
He stole a crooked child, who cried a crooked squeal
And that crooked little man, was broken on the wheel.